


Caesar Is Our King Today

by waferkya



Category: Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Intercrural Sex, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:52:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waferkya/pseuds/waferkya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He does not realize I am here until the moment I step out of the shadow that clouded my presence, and he wonders why his fucking father will not give him command over an army; the boy’s breath catches in his throat and it is reason for a smile.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caesar Is Our King Today

He does not realize I am here until the moment I step out of the shadow that clouded my presence, and he wonders why his fucking father will not give him command over an army; the boy’s breath catches in his throat and it is reason for a smile.

“Caesar,” he says through grinding teeth, and his attempt at authority would be easily bested by that of a stray kitten, blinded and teethless.

I keep my smile and step closer to him. He is so boring he recoils in fear, but he is not thinking: the table is sitting behind him, and he cannot escape any further away. Diana will surely piss on my bones for this farce of a hunt.

“Be not afraid,” I say to the smooth crook of his neck. Not a trace of beard or shaving, this boy would still reek of milk if it wasn’t for all the expensive perfumes those of his kind are constantly bathing in.

He has no knowledge of war and the burning bite of battle and blood and winter, and yet he would bear the weight of imperium and see us all to a useless, boring fucking death. So, I do think I am doing us all a favor as I make him turn around and bend over the desk; I am merely offering help, prying his eyes open with the gentle act of lifting the skirt he pretends is a toga, and if I’m not, well, may the thunder strike and turn me to charcoal.

Still alive, I push my hand inbetween his thighs and I’m half surprised to find balls to cup.

“Caesar,” he whines, but a little tug is enough to shut his mouth. Good boy.

He is absolutely indecent, with his smooth white skin and the little hiccups dropping from his mouth like honey; he looks exquisite too, one must give him credit for it. Has he ever been touched? Am I the first to sink teeth in the ripe curve of his ass? I ask him as much and all he does is grunt and moan and I think he means yes.

“Let us have the fucking gods as witnesses, then,” I tell him, the balcony only a few steps away. Tiberius makes no attempt to fight or escape, not with his wet cock in my grasp and a hand over his mouth. He does stand very still when my touch moves to the back of his thighs, and as I bite his shoulder he shudders.

“Don’t,” he whispers into my hand, and I have met handmaidens who were so much braver than this rich little shit.

And yet, he pushes his hips back into mine and I find myself buried deep inbetween his dry thighs, my cock sliding under his and the warmth from his body infectious.

I hear steps from the inside of the house and then a loud cry of “Tiberius!”, and the gods must be testing my patience.

“I pray the gods I shall find your friend willing to join us,” I tell the kitten, and he whines as I move back and oh, I’d give an arm and a leg, from someone else’s body of course, to have time to properly address _that_ , but his friend, the one who is slightly less green as grass, is upon us already. He does not look too pleased.

“What are you _doing_?” he demands to know, and I push my thumb to the root of Tiberius’ cock, given that I can.

“Taking him,” I answer; this makes him even less pleased, and he almost looks like a man.

“Step back.”

Crassus’ boy moans, “Sabinus, no—” which makes the other boy’s ear turn red.

“ _Step back_.”

I do not. I put my hands on, what’s his name again, Tiberius’ thighs, and push them open a little.

“I shall step back,” I say, staring at the other boy in the eye and trying not to grin too hard at his ridiculous order. “If you step in.”

He tries not to let it surface, but I have shocked him; I stroke Tiberius’ cock, just a little, just to see how far will this other boy go — and he looks at my hand and his friend’s throbbing flesh with an hunger I might even find pleasing.

So, he has been waiting for this.

“Go on,” I tell him, and Tiberius’ little breathy moan comes at the most perfect time. “Take him. You do want him, do you not?”

The boy takes a step forward before he catches himself.

“Swear that you will let go of him,” he says, the honorable little shit who cannot even realize how big a favour I am making him.

“If you take him,” I say, and he doesn’t hear the rest: _I take you, in exchange_.

And oh, does he take him. He’s four steps away and he’s stroking himself already, eager to grow hard and wet. He slips inbetween Tiberius and me, graces me with a glare and then tenderly stroking his friend’s exposed thighs. I feel sick.

Tiberius’ mouth is pink and swollen and it bears such a resemblance to the wanton lips of whores that, knowing his frigid mother, I could never guess he came from that womb — but then again, his father is who he is, and Tiberius is pale and writhing and begging, a gorgeous sum of everything the house of Crassus tries so hard not to be.

Their heavy breaths rise in rhythm and noise, Tiberius’ friend leaning into him to kiss the back of his neck, disgustingly sweet, and Tiberius whispering his name and mumbling nonsense, probably poetry of some sort. I grab the other boy by the hips and drag him back, away from the tight space inbetween Tiberius’ thighs, which they have already made wet, and sticky.

“How long have you thought of this?” I ask, and the boy shudders and denies me an honest answer. There’s a grin on my lips as I put the tip of his cock against Tiberius’ thighs and mine against his; I shove into him and he into Tiberius and Tiberius slips a little further onto the railing.

Tiberius’ friend clenches like the perfect cunt around me, I can only hope Tiberius feels this wonderful, and he makes no sound when my thumbs find the underside of his ass, slipping upwards, upwards, upwards until I am at his entrance — he breathes out hard and comes, biting at Tiberius’ shoulder, and soon enough Tiberius, pathetic little boy unfit for everything except maybe this, is spent, too.

“You are not going anywhere,” I tell them both; Tiberius sighs, defeated and tired and warm. Tiberius’ friend growls at me, but he pushes his thighs a little closer together.  


**Author's Note:**

> OH GOD WHAT. Okay so, Romans had just as many issues with sex as a sheltered girl with extremely religious parents might have today; anal intercourse was very much frowned upon, but they were also into the "friends with benefits" trope, sort of, as long as everything stays manly. So how do you keep your virility safe while still getting to fool around with your best manly man of a friend? Intercrural is what Romans would suggets, clearly; it's brilliant and simple and deliciously messy and okay, I'll shut up right now, I just wanted to point out that the thing Caesar does, with his thumbs and Sabinus, that's--- that's a pretty big deal? And also I love Sparty's Caesar, all hot blonde hawaiian dude who has the hots for everyone and everything, and I hope I made him justice. Halp.


End file.
